


Progress of Love

by Silbrith



Series: Caffrey Conversation [44]
Category: White Collar
Genre: Adventure, Gen, Pre-Canon, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-24
Updated: 2020-07-15
Packaged: 2021-03-03 22:08:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 21,031
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24892912
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Silbrith/pseuds/Silbrith
Summary: A visit from Alex is not what Neal had in mind for Valentine's Day. February 2006.
Series: Caffrey Conversation [44]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/65698
Comments: 8
Kudos: 14





	1. On the Terrace

**Columbia University. Monday, February 6, 2006.**

_Meet me at Dream Midtown. PHD Terrace. 8pm_

Neal absently refolded the pink origami paper into its original tulip shape. He'd found it in his overcoat pocket when he arrived home from work. Only one person he knew of left messages for him in origami flowers—Alex.

He'd taken the subway home. Most likely she'd slipped it to him when he was waiting on the tracks. It would have been easy to escape detection in the crush of commuters.

He'd first met Alex when he was on a job for Klaus in Athens. They'd hooked up on a few occasions but neither one was serious about the other. The last time Neal saw her, he was working for Adler and sighing over Kate who was dating someone else. Alex had done her best to distract him. No baggage, no commitments—that was Alex.

She must have gone to considerable effort to research him. She knew where he worked, what subway he took. She also had likely discovered that he was living in June's mansion. But she probably didn't know about Sara, who was currently working in London. Last autumn when Sara lived in New York, they'd kept their dates a secret.

The Dream Midtown was a hotel in the theater district. The bar Alex referred to was a popular two-story lounge on the top floors. Had she picked the venue as a sly reference to the fact that she knew about his status at Columbia or was she dreaming about a score? He had no plans for that evening. Neal smiled as he slipped on a cashmere turtleneck. He'd know soon enough.

Snow flurries had started in the afternoon and were continuing in the evening. When Neal arrived, the lounge was packed with patrons enjoying the Manhattan snowscape.

He ambled up to the bar and ordered a glass of Chardonnay. It didn't take long for him to hear a familiar sultry voice in his ear. "It's been too long, Caffrey."

He turned his head to see Alex in a slinky tunic and leggings. The striking elliptical silver and gold pendant she wore around her neck appeared Greek in design.

"Good to see you, Alex. What brings you to my neck of the woods?"

She set her martini down on the counter. "What else? Dreams, of course." She dropped her voice. "Are you going to make mine come true?"

He could play along. "What do you have in mind?" he asked, also lowering his voice.

"Something that will enable us to realize our dreams for a long time to come. Worth a few minutes of your time?"

"You're worth much more than that," he said gallantly. Alex didn't divulge any specifics but restricted herself to light banter. Neal bided his time, waiting till they were able to grab a booth by the floor-to-ceiling windows overlooking Times Square.

"Much as I appreciate your concern for my happiness, this is a little unexpected," he said, keeping his tone friendly as they settled into their niche. Alex preferred to work alone, and altruism had never been her strong suit. "Since when have you been working this side of the Atlantic?"

"If I'd known you'd joined the feds, I might not have bothered. I never would have expected you'd become one of their drones."

He shrugged. "They made me an offer I couldn't refuse."

"Meaning if you didn't cooperate, they'd throw you in prison?"

"They can be very persuasive." He'd rather not lie, instead letting her make assumptions based on the Neal Caffrey she knew.

She scowled as she nodded. "You were on the verge of losing control under Adler. I was worried then that you'd self-destruct. So you've really gone legit?"

He shrugged. "So it would seem."

"I'd heard rumors you haven't retired."

He raised a cocky eyebrow. "I'm a little young to think about retiring."

Her eyes lit up. "That's what I thought." She leaned toward him and whispered silkily. "Do you have time to help an old friend?"

"I haven't lost my fondness for extracurricular activities." The old Neal Caffrey would never have blinked twice about joining her in a job. "Do you have something to propose?"

"We never visited the Frick Collection. Perhaps you'd care to accompany me."

He hadn't visited any museums with Alex. She preferred to target homes and small art galleries. If she wanted to steal a museum painting, it could explain why she was reaching out to him, but not why she was changing her tactics. "Why not the Guggenheim or Museum of Modern Art? The Frick Collection is predominantly Old Masters. In the past, they didn't hold much appeal for you."

"Tastes change."

He didn't say anything but waited for her to cough up more of a reason. He was in no hurry to leave, and she was the one who wanted something from him.

She drained her martini glass and placed it on the table. "You're not the only one who receives offers you can't refuse. A client insists I visit the Frick."

"You may wish to reconsider. Speaking as your friend, the art museums in New York have become much more secure over the past few years. I should know. The team I work with designed many of the measures." Assuming she intended to ask his help on a job, his caution would serve to make his assistance even more valuable. But his primary objective was to warn her off. Neal liked Alex. Her moral compass was unreliable but she had a good heart, and he had no desire to be responsible for her arrest.

"This is your chance to stick it to them," she said, blowing his caution away, "and I guarantee you'll be rewarded handsomely for your efforts."

He fingered the stem of his wine glass as if he was considering her proposition, and he was. There were a few options on how to play it.

"I'm doing you a favor," she added. "I could do the job alone but I thought you'd like the distraction."

"From what?"

She took a breath, casting him a sympathetic look. "It can't be easy for you, what with Kate in prison. Have you seen her?"

He gave a short, brittle laugh. "How could I explain to my handler that I need to go to Paris to see my criminal girlfriend?" Kate's trial had ended a month ago. She'd been tried as an accomplice of Vincent Adler in Neal and Henry's kidnapping cases. Adler's trial had been written about extensively in the papers. It wasn't a surprise that Alex had heard about it.

She reached over to clasp his hand. "The beds in this hotel are extremely comfortable. We could take this conversation upstairs." She cocked her head to smile at him. "No pressure, no commitments?"

"Thanks but you shouldn't have to settle for a guy still wallowing." Let her think he was still grieving over Kate. It was the simplest solution.

"If you change your mind, let me know."

He smiled at her. "I'm tempted. I haven't forgotten our times together. I think they meant more to me than you."

She shrugged. "Nothing wrong with casual sex."

"Nothing at all." He took a sip of his wine. "Who's your client?" She'd said she'd make his dreams come true. It was a reasonable question under the circumstances.

"Sorry, Neal. If I told you, what's to prevent you from making a deal behind my back?"

"I don't double-cross my friends."

"Nor do I," she snapped. Had he brought up a sensitive subject? For her to be so defensive, either someone had accused her of precisely that or she was waging an internal debate about it.

"There are some clients I refuse to work for," Neal said shortly. "If you want my help, you'll have to give me a name." Alex must have convinced herself that she needed him. He could afford to be persistent.

"All right, as a sign of good faith, I'll let you in." She leaned closer and murmured. "Ryan Wilkes." When he grimaced, she added, "Don't look at me that way." Her self-confident mask finally dropped. "You know I wouldn't work for that scumbag unless I didn't have a choice. Now you understand what I mean when I said he gave me an offer I couldn't refuse."

He nodded. Because the consequences would be far deadlier than prison.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

_Neal, what are you doing?_

Sara took a sip of her Singapore Smash and considered her options. There was no chance Neal would recognize her, not with her black square-cut wig and bangs. She was disguised in what she liked to call her Thai-assassin look. She still didn't have conclusive evidence that Alex had the jewels, but the way her luck had been running, it was inevitable.

Alex was her lead suspect in the burglary of a house in Surrey. Only the best pieces were lifted from the jewelry collection of the wife of a real estate magnate. The security system had been bypassed and no evidence was left at the scene, but Sara had found Alex's image recorded on security footage taken at a petrol station two days before the heist.

For the briefest of instants, she'd regretted searching the Interpol database to learn about Alex. That was back in the fall when Henry believed Neal was dating the thief. If she hadn't researched Alex, she wouldn't have known who the woman was. Sara inwardly cringed. She should be delighted. This was her job. Catching thieves, no matter who they were.

She and Neal knew this type of situation would arise sooner or later. They'd already agreed that they couldn't grant exceptions for personal friends. Except Mozzie, of course. And he was too smart to be caught.

When Sara discovered Alex had taken a plane to New York, her heart thudded to her feet. Alex didn't work in the States. Why was she going to Neal's hometown? Sara tried to convince herself it was simply a coincidence, but her heart refused to be swayed. She didn't want to take a chance that another investigator would misread the situation. Last spring, Kramer had flagged Neal's name as a person of interest for the theft of the Raphael painting. Neal's record had been corrected but the U.S. investigators could have residual doubts about him.

Alex was out when Sara arrived at the hotel. She breathed easier after discovering Alex had used her own name to register. Perhaps the purpose of her visit was completely above board. Or was she was so cocky, she didn't think an alias was necessary?

Sara had staked out the hotel lobby and was there to see Alex return at six in the evening. Since then Sara had been monitoring her movements. She tailed her to the cocktail lounge and appropriated a corner table from where she could view the entire lounge. Never had she been so glad she hadn't told Neal about her Thai-assassin disguise.

Now what? Was this an innocent meeting between two friends? Did Neal know about the jewelry? Was there some other motive? Sara ducked her head when they stood up and buried herself in her paperback. Out of the corner of her eye, she watched them approach the exit.

 _Really, Alex? Did you have to kiss Neal?_ And did Neal feel it was essential to linger over it?

Damn. Damn. Damn.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Peter was fifteen minutes late for the morning briefing. By the time he walked into the conference room, Jones, Travis, and Diana were already there. Peter was surprised that Neal, aka Mr. Punctuality, wasn't present. But that conundrum took a backseat to puzzling over the guilty look which flashed across Diana's face when she spotted Peter.

Travis and Jones were standing beside her. They'd been engaged in an animated conversation but as soon as Peter entered the room, they clammed up as if a switch had been flicked.

"Don't let me interrupt you," Peter said calmly. "I'll give Neal a couple more minutes before starting the meeting." He took his seat and placed his folder in front of him as the others took their places. Since no one spoke up, he added, "Anything you'd like to share?"

Jones cleared his throat. "We were just discussing the chapter Diana posted yesterday. Wondered what your thoughts were."

At that point, Diana skewered Jones with a laser beam from her eyes. Peter's second-in-command was lucky he wasn't sitting next to her or he might have gotten punched. Peter hadn't read the posted version of the second chapter of _Standing Stones_. "Were there revisions that weren't in the summary Tricia gave me?"

"Nothing major," Diana said quickly.

"I wouldn't call them insignificant," Travis remarked. The team's tech expert was a stickler for precise language. "The ramifications to the storyline will likely be profound."

"You're not talking about Mozzie and Lavinia, are you?" Peter asked.

"That's it!" Diana said triumphantly.

"But that was already foreshadowed." Peter exaggerated his puzzlement. Diana was seldom flustered by anything but something had her going.

She took a short breath. "My co-writer made some additional tweaks. You know how impossible Mozzie is to control. He'd probably sue me if I attempted to change anything he wrote."

"What did he add?"

"Look who arrived!" The relief on Diana's face was painfully obvious. "You better have a good reason for making us wait, Caffrey."

Peter was distracted by a new puzzle when Neal didn't respond with a quip to her jab. "Sorry I'm late," he said absently and took a seat next to Travis. Neal's current assignment was a routine copyright infringement case—not the type of work that would cause him to lose track of time.

"Something come up?" Jones asked. Smart man, he'd also noticed Neal's atypical behavior.

"Do you know who Ryan Wilkes is?" Neal asked, scanning the group.

Diana was the only one who shook her head.

"Wilkes engages in white-collar crimes," Peter explained. "He's one of the nastier criminals on the loose. He's suspected in several cases involving assault, but has managed to elude capture." He turned to Neal. "I believe you have a personal history with him."

"Didn't you include him in your confession when the joined the Bureau?" Jones chimed in.

Neal nodded. "I did a couple of jobs for him till I discovered how he operates. The man has anger management issues. He uses fear, intimidation, and physical violence to achieve his objectives. He's also very savvy." Neal grimaced. "As Exhibit A, I point out that he's never been charged with a crime and is still at large."

"Did he approach you?" Peter demanded, bile rising in his throat.

"No, but he's coercing a friend of mine. She contacted me yesterday evening. I believe you're familiar with the name Alex Hunter?"

"The thief Henry thought you were dating last fall?" Travis asked.

"That's the one."

"What does she want from you?" Peter asked, his gut easing off. So far so good. Neal was addressing the issue head-on.

"Nothing much." When Neal smiled, his familiar confident expression resurfaced. "Alex wants my help in stealing a painting from the Frick." Neal went on to explain what took place the previous evening. "She double-crossed Wilkes during a job in Vienna. She managed to cast suspicion on someone else and thought she'd escaped scot-free, but he discovered her duplicity and is demanding the painting as payment."

"Which painting is it?" Jones asked.

"I don't know. She wants to meet me at the Frick today during the lunch hour. I expect to find out then. The Frick is full of treasures by the Old Masters—works by El Greco, Holbein, Vermeer, Renoir, Rembrandt. How do you want me to play it?"

"Does she realize the extent of danger she's in?" Peter asked.

"Yeah, underneath that cocky exterior she's in a panic. She could provide the means for us to capture Wilkes, but bringing him out into the open won't be easy."

"How would Wilkes react if he found out you were working with Alex?" Travis asked.

Neal was quiet for a moment. "At first, he'd probably welcome me with open arms. Later, as soon as he got the painting, he'd try to teach both me and Alex a lesson to never cross him again. I walked away during a job when I couldn't stomach his methods. He undoubtedly viewed my action as a betrayal."

In other words, he'd turn on Neal in a heartbeat. Given the man's record of violence, shielding Neal would be a difficult challenge. Peter tabled his concerns for further reflection, recognizing it accomplished little to bring them up without having a proposal to make. "Do you think you could persuade Alex to work with us?"

Neal's lips tightened. "There's a chance but we don't have much leverage with her. She could decide to approach someone else for the job. I may be able to trick her, but Alex is clever. She knows I work for the Bureau. She seemed to accept my cover that I was coerced to work for you, but she'll be on the alert. Deceiving both her and Wilkes won't be easy."

For Neal to admit the high degree of difficulty spoke volumes. In the end, Peter decided to sanction Neal meeting Alex at the Frick, but not before he'd had a chance to speak with Neal privately in his office.

"I don't like it," Peter admitted after closing the door. "Alex is your friend. How will you be able to maintain your objectivity?"

He winced. "That's where I'll count on you. Before she told me about Wilkes's involvement, I did my best to dissuade her from the theft. I couldn't tell her much, though, without blowing my cover."

"Are you going to be able to live with yourself when you con her?" Peter asked bluntly.

He shrugged. "I'll have to. At a minimum, we'll be able to prevent a heist. We can alert the Frick they've been targeted. But if I work with Alex, perhaps I can discover a way to make her believe she needs to cooperate with us for her own good. For instance, I could tell her she was photographed at the Frick. She's on a list of suspected thieves, and our team was ordered to investigate her. If she thinks she'll be arrested, she'll be more willing to cooperate."

"She could also think you sold her out."

"Yeah, I know." He didn't say anything for a moment studying his hands unhappily. "When I signed the FBI contract, I knew this sort of situation would arise. But if she hadn't come to me, she might have tried to partner with someone else. The results could be worse, especially if she's unable to satisfy Wilkes's demand. She wouldn't view it this way, but I think I'm acting in her best interest."

Peter liked what he heard, but he also knew Neal tended to minimize the potential harm he'd suffer. Peter had the uneasy feeling that he and Neal would both have to deal with the fallout.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

_Not the Fragonard Room. Please not the Fragonard Room._

Sara moaned to herself when Alex linked arms with Neal and strolled inside the chamber dedicated to the _Progress of Love_ , a series of large-scale paintings by the French Rococo artist. Sara's progress of love was in danger of falling over the precipice.

She'd spent a sleepless night, agonizing over how to handle the complication Neal had introduced. The only saving grace was that he wasn't expecting a call from her. She'd told him a few days ago she'd be working on a case and would probably be out of contact. She'd hoped her caution would be unnecessary, but fate ruled otherwise.

With Alex, Neal's emotions were bound to be mixed. Besides, last night could have been entirely innocent. Even if Alex was in town to fence the jewelry, Neal wasn't necessarily involved.

Right.

Sara heaved a deep sigh that only someone who was in love with Neal would appreciate. Alex hadn't met with Mozzie to her knowledge. But with Sara's luck, she surely would, making the issues doubly complicated.

Sara was wearing her English-professor-on-holiday look. Sensible brogues, short iron-gray hair, corduroy slacks, tweed jacket, and glasses. If she didn't do something quick, she'd run out of disguises. She still hadn't ascertained if Alex actually had the jewelry. Under normal circumstances, she'd contact the New York office for backup. She was violating company policy by not having contacted them immediately upon arrival.

She ducked her head and studied a copy of the museum map as Neal and Alex walked past her. At least, Alex hadn't kissed him this time . . . yet.

Sara waited a minute before following them. There was enough of a midday crowd that she should be inconspicuous. After spending about five minutes in the gallery, they headed for the main entrance.

Sara watched as Neal helped Alex get a taxi then turned in the direction of the subway station. Just a wave. No outward display of affection. Small comfort.

What now? After agonizing for a few more seconds, Sara looked at her dilemma from another angle. If Diana or Jones had met with Alex, would she hesitate over what to do? She was in love with Neal, and he was with her. Didn't he deserve the same treatment? Did she trust him or didn't she?

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Hello, Neal."

"Sara!" He'd recognize that sultry whisper anywhere. He spun around and did a double-take. "Fetching new look for you."

"Isn't it though," she said, striking a pose. "I assume you didn't notice me at the Frick."

Neal's heart dropped. Crap. She must have seen him with Alex. "That case you're working on wouldn't happen to concern Alex Hunter?"

She nodded. "Neal, we need to talk."

"Let's do it at the Bureau. I'm working a case too. We may be able to help each other."

Her smile lit up the sky. "I was hoping we could."

How long had she been following Alex? Did she worry that he was cheating on both her and the Bureau? What if Peter had been out of the office and the briefing had been delayed till the afternoon? Neal might have gone ahead and met with Alex, assuming that he'd tell the others this afternoon. Would Sara have believed him that he intended to inform the team? Neal's stomach gave an unsettling lurch.

"When did you arrive in New York?" he asked, dragging his mind out of the morass of what-ifs.

"Yesterday."

"That's the day Alex contacted me." Neal figured he better go ahead and relate the entire story up front, and when he heard that Sara had been monitoring him and Alex in the lounge as well, he felt like he'd just piloted the _Titanic_ around the iceberg. The inevitable disaster he and Sara both feared would sink their relationship had been avoided by mere inches.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Jones nudged Diana in the breakroom. "Who's the woman with Caffrey?"

Diana paused filling her mug from the coffee pot to look up. Short gray hair and glasses. Frumpy tweeds. "I don't recognize her. Definitely not Alex. I've seen her photos. Perhaps one of his professors?" Diana could picture the woman as a historian. It would be a fitting look for the head librarian in her Arkham Files stories.

Jones chuckled. "Caffrey's one in a million. I saw them kissing by the elevator and it was no peck on the cheek."

"Shhh," she whispered. "They're coming this way." For a woman with gray hair, her complexion was remarkably radiant. Diana would love to know her secret. It probably involved a banana peel mask and cucumbers.

"Look who's back!" Neal exclaimed, grinning from ear to ear.

"Sorry for the outfit," a familiar voice said. "I didn't take time to change."

"Sara?" Diana stared at her. "Is that really you?"

"I'm a woman of many faces," she said with a smile. "You should see my Thai-assassin look. Neal didn't recognize me at the lounge last night."

"Ouch," Jones muttered and sent a sympathetic wince in Neal's direction. Was he trying to think of an excuse to bail Neal out?

"It's okay," Neal said. "Sara realized there's no way I'd cheat on my sexy silver fox."

"You better not," Sara warned with a mock stern expression. "This satchel is a lethal weapon."

"What's going on?" Peter asked, walking in. "Quite a transformation for you, Sara."

"Hi, Peter," Sara said. "Neal and I realized we were working different angles of the same case. I hope you don't mind if I join the discussion."

"You're investigating Alex Hunter?" Peter asked.

She nodded. "She's a suspect in a jewelry heist."

"You're welcome at the table. I'll call Travis to join us."

"Give me a minute to take off my wig."

"Please do," Jones said. "You're reminding me too much of my grade school English teacher."

Sara grinned. "Afraid I'll rap your knuckles? I'll be back in a jiff."

As soon as she left the room, Neal was swarmed. "What's the damage assessment?" Peter demanded.

"You need us to back you up?" Jones added. "Just let us know what to say."

"Hey, Sara should know the truth," Diana protested and turned to glare at Neal. "You didn't leave anything out of your report about the previous night, did you?"

Neal sighed. "Give me a little credit, guys. Yes, I like Alex, but do you honestly believe I'd cheat on Sara? You certainly wouldn't write Arkham Neal to do something so despicable and may I remind you he's based on me?" He took a slow breath, apparently to ratchet down his frustration, but it didn't seem to work.

He was probably worried that Sara had doubts as well. Despite herself, Diana felt herself go a little gooey inside. It wasn't often, but every once in a blue moon Neal reminded her of the way she'd written his fictional counterpart. Caffrey at work was cool and in control, his conman's mask firmly in place to hide any tension. When the mask slipped, he looked surprisingly vulnerable. Sara's unexpected appearance must have rattled him badly.

This wasn't the time to slip out of character. He'd be even more flustered. "Sheesh, calm down," Diana urged, adding an exaggerated eye roll to enhance the effect. "We weren't impugning your character." She zipped a mischievous grin his way. "Well, maybe we were, just a little. But clearly Sara knows you far better than us, and she didn't doubt you for a second." Diana kept her fingers crossed behind her back that she was correct. Certainly Sara didn't look upset.

"You skipped lunch for your appointment," Peter said. "I can tell when a guy's running on empty. Isn't there a stash of power bars in the breakroom cabinet next to the fridge?"

"I replenished it yesterday," Jones confirmed, "and that last batch of coffee was surprisingly decent." Diana groaned inwardly. That last statement was true only for a man whose taste buds were already jaded by too much swill, but she applauded the thought. Neal was no doubt suffering from caffeine deprivation in addition to hunger pangs.

By the time Travis was rounded up and Sara returned, looking more like herself on a truly horrendous wardrobe day, Neal's equilibrium was restored. Jones had supplied the conference room with a tray of power bars for everyone to munch on but made sure the snacks were positioned close to Neal and Sara.

"The jewelry is part of the wife's inheritance from the Rothschild estate," Sara explained. "A diamond and sapphire necklace with matching earrings. Two diamond brooches were stolen as well. The total insured value is over 3 million pounds." She turned to Neal. "Did Alex mention the theft to you?"

Neal shook his head. "Not a word. I wonder if Wilkes managed to seize them. They could be what he's holding over her head. If she doesn't provide him with the painting, he'll keep the jewels."

Peter nodded. "Wilkes could have been following Alex. He knew about the heist and somehow managed to confiscate the stolen items. But would that provide sufficient incentive for her to work with him?"

"Good point," Jones agreed. "Alex could have simply walked away."

"Not her," Neal countered. "She wouldn't have given up on what she now considers her property. Alex is probably trying to figure out a way to double-cross Wilkes, retrieve the jewels, and keep the painting." He shrugged. "She knows my feelings about him. I'm sure she believes I'll do whatever it takes to screw him."

"What painting does Wilkes want?" Travis said.

Sara gave Neal a sympathetic look. Diana quickly conjured up possible targets. Based on Sara's expression, it must be an artist with a personal connection to Neal. She didn't think the museum had any Raphaels or Caravaggios, but it was famous for—

"A Vermeer, not the most famous one in the collection— _Mistress and Maid_ —but _Girl Interrupted at Her Music_." Neal began folding the wrapper from a power bar into precise shapes. "And that's a puzzle. Why that painting?" He looked up at Peter. "The Frick has three Vermeers. The two others are much more valuable. The _Girl Interrupted_ was heavily restored and damaged in the process. At this point, the damage is irreversible."

Travis frowned. "That's not logical. We're lacking a data point."

Peter nodded absently. "And the additional complication is that it's a Vermeer. Neal, pull up an image of the painting."

There was no need to explain why the artist raised concerns. For everyone on the team, Vermeer was tied at the hip to the Mansfelds. Klaus had first surfaced when he hired Neal to paint a forgery of a Vermeer painting at the Met. The artist's portrait of an astronomer had been acquired by Klaus's brother Rolf. Both men were now in prison, but they could be in communication through their lawyers with outside interests. Or was this a case that every time Vermeer was mentioned, the assumption was immediately made that Rolf, aka Azathoth, was behind it? Diana groaned to herself. Was she thinking like a writer or a Bureau agent?

Neal hooked his laptop to the projector and displayed the painting on the screen. "It's a snapshot in time of a couple practicing a song. The glass of red wine and the man's pose indicate a romantic interest. The underlying meaning is highlighted by the painting of Cupid on the wall."

Jones squinted at the screen. "That's Cupid? It looks like a muddled mess to me."

Neal winced. "It didn't originally. That section of the painting suffered some of the worst damage."

"Valentine's Day is coming up. Perhaps the buyer intends it to be a present," Travis suggested.

"The girl in the painting is lovely," Sara said. "I can see where someone who doesn't have much of an eye for the damage done to it over the centuries could be attracted to her. Perhaps the buyer is a musician or their love interest is one."

"I'll notify Tricia," Peter said. "As profiler on the Mansfelds, she may be able to shed some light on possible motives. Neal, contact Henry. Ask him for his thoughts." Peter turned to Sara. "The jewelry theft may give us the leverage we need to force Alex to cooperate. Neal could tell her that you approached us with proof of her having stolen the jewels. She doesn't know that you don't have any hard evidence. Neal could lay it on thick about how we're hot on her heels with her moves constantly monitored."

"And they will be," Jones added. "I'll work up a schedule now. Sara, is somebody currently tailing her?"

She nodded. "I called the office on my way here. They'll be glad to have reinforcements."

"If Alex thinks she's about to be arrested, she should be willing to go along," Neal agreed, his power bar wrapper now a tiny origami butterfly. "This will also preserve my cover. Alex has as much reason to want to see Wilkes behind bars as the rest of us."

"You can also say that if the jewelry is recovered, she'll be in a better negotiating position, but don't make any promises," Sara warned.

"You're not yet sure she stole the jewels," Travis pointed out.

"Based on her response, I should soon find out," Neal promised. "I haven't given Alex my answer about the Vermeer. Do you want me to play along for now?"

Peter considered for a moment then agreed. "Does Alex expect you to make a forgery?"

Neal gave a knowing half-smile that alerted Diana he was in conman mode. "No, and I don't intend to tell her. Alex realizes I'm a forger but she's unaware that I can fool an appraiser, and that will remain our secret."

* * *

_Notes: Thanks for reading! Neal has that conversation with Alex in next week's chapter. He'll also need to persuade a reluctant Mozzie to go along with the scheme. This story has 4 chapters which I'll post weekly on Wednesday. I've included some resource links about the paintings mentioned in the chapter in my latest blog post, "[Backdrop to Progress of Love](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/06/caffrey-conversation-backdrop-to.html)."_

_Huge thanks to Penna Nomen for providing beta help during an exceptionally hectic time in her life._

_This is Alex's first time to have a speaking part in Caffrey Conversation, and she hopes it's not her last. Sara probably has a different view on the subject. I enjoyed planting Easter eggs to canon scenes featuring Alex, including an origami tulip and Sara catching Neal and Alex exchanging a kiss. In case you'd like to review canon moments of Neal and Alex, I added a fun fanvid of them to the Progress of Love Pinterest board._

_Chapter Visuals and Music: The Progress of Love board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_  
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_  
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_

_**Background on the Caffrey Conversation AU for new readers** : This series was created by Penna Nomen and begins with her story Caffrey Conversation. Our blog has a list and short summaries for all the stories in chronological order. The primary difference from canon is that Neal was never sent to prison and the characters are several years younger. The personalities of canon characters (Elizabeth, Mozzie, Diana, Jones, Hughes, June, and Sara) are the same. _

_Peter recruited Neal in 2003 when he was 24. In the fall of 2004, he entered Columbia University's graduate program in art as a part-time student. In the spring of 2005, Peter and Neal were appointed to the Interpol art crimes task force. The work on the task force is part time and places additional emphasis on art crimes for the White Collar team. In canon, Neal's only relatives to be mentioned are his father and mother. In ours, his mother Meredith has a twin sister named Noelle who is a psychologist. Noelle married Peter's older brother Joe during the 2004 Christmas holidays. Henry Winslow is Noelle's son and nearly three years older than Neal. He works at a private investigation and security company named Winston-Winslow (usually referred to as Win-Win). Neal has one other cousin, Angela, who is the daughter of Noelle and Meredith's deceased brother. Working with the White Collar team are two non-canon characters: Travis Miller, a technical expert, and Tricia Wiese, a profiler. Neal's friends at Columbia include fellow grad students Richard and Aidan. Pins for the entire cast and locations are on our Caffrey Conversation Pinterest site._


	2. Shell Game

**Federal Building. Tuesday, February 7, 2005.**

Sara was not able to stay at White Collar for long. As soon as the team hammered out the details of the op, she left for Sterling-Bosch. It was an unsatisfactory situation. Despite Sara's repeated assurances that she trusted Neal wasn't engaged in anything underhanded, he had a hard time believing it. The rest of the team apparently felt the same way.

To make matters worse, Neal wouldn't be able to see much of Sara for the duration of the con. Alex undoubtedly knew where he lived, so Sara would need to stay in a hotel room. In the past, Neal had always enjoyed working on a joint op with Sara, but this one seemed jinxed from the start.

With no huddle rooms to use, Neal was forced to rely on an unoccupied interrogation room to call Mozzie. The list of supplies needed for the forgery was a long one. Mozzie thrived on acquiring esoteric materials, and his expertise would be put to the test. For this job, Neal would have to forge not only the original seventeenth-century painting but layer upon layer of disastrous restoration efforts. It would be a major challenge, but an even more daunting one could be convincing Mozzie to go along with the second request.

"I won't do it," Mozzie insisted stubbornly. "I've compromised my ethics enough."

"I'm not asking you to betray your fence contacts. Simply find out if Alex had been making the rounds. We need to know if she has the jewels with her."

"And what if she does? Will you steal them from her? Arrest her?"

"I'm trying to help her, Mozz. And me too, for that matter. Surely you understand that. You dislike Wilkes as much as I do."

"But Alex is a friend! She used to be yours as well."

Neal winced. "And she still is. But you know what she's like. If she can sell the jewels, she'll likely bolt, leaving us high and dry. I just freed myself from the Mansfelds. I have no desire to stress about Wilkes coming after me." He was already uneasy about what he'd have to do. No need for Mozzie to rub salt into the wound.

Mozzie heaved a sigh sufficiently loud to register his continued displeasure.

Neal played his trump card. "This is not just for me but Sara as well. Would you rather me ask her to plead our case?"

"No, that won't be necessary," he said grumpily. "Give Gypsy my best."

At Mozzie's use of Sara's nickname, Neal knew the battle was won. After he rang off, he called the second person on his list.

"Has Splash forgiven me for missing Tuesday Tails?" Neal asked. Normally he joined Henry during the lunch hour on Tuesday for a walk in the park with Henry's puppy.

"She demands a rain check," Henry said. "You'll doubly regret it when you hear my news."

"What's that?" Neal asked, hoping it had nothing to do with the Mansfelds or thief complications.

"June told me that Masterson Music will buy Riffs. They'll keep the present format but have even more open-mic nights. Their goal is to provide a platform for new and struggling musicians." As Henry discussed how June hoped to establish a partnership with Randy Weston's music shop next door and perhaps have his daughter manage the club, Neal found it ironic that Henry was better informed about the project than he was.

"June hasn't said a word to me about it. How did you learn so much about her plans?"

"The Arkham Round Table, where else?" Henry paused and Neal heard the _thunk_ of something hard followed by the scamper of dog claws on the wood floor of his office. Neal smiled at Henry's brand of multitasking. "They should call it the Arkham Gossip Club. You wouldn't believe all the subjects which supposedly fit within the umbrella of a writing group. Riffs is a case in point. You remember I'd tossed in a few suggestions for Arkham Henry about improving the music scene in Arkham?"

"Yeah, they were based on what happened in _Scorpion Hill_."

"June called me this morning to discuss them and mentioned her plans for Riffs." Henry chuckled. "I'd wondered at the time why the group had injected a music thread into the story. I bet June was test-driving the concept."

"While reaping the benefit of discussing it with a group before admitting she has a personal interest. She's a lucky woman." Neal's thoughts returned to Sara. If he'd known Sara was watching him, would he have acted differently? If he had, would it have raised a warning flag with Alex?

"You were vague about why you canceled out on the walk," Henry prompted, rousing him from his thoughts. "You got a new case?"

"Yeah. It's the main reason I called."

"Let me guess. If you can talk about it, my bet is a couple of brothers are involved." Although Henry kept his tone casual, Neal heard the undertone of seriousness. Normally, Neal wouldn't be able to discuss ongoing cases. He wished their joint work these days didn't always revolve around the Mansfelds.

"Not only them, but someone you displayed an unusual amount of interest in—Alex Hunter." Neal described the events over the past twenty-four hours. "What's your take on the Vermeer?"

"I can see why you're suspicious. There's the added significance that the Arkham Files story Diana is posting references Valentine's Day. Is this another example of Rolf flaunting his ability to act even while in prison?"

"Could be," Neal agreed. "The possible connection to _Standing Stones_ was discussed during the briefing."

"But let's step back for a moment. Do you think Wilkes believed Alex would involve you?"

"That's a big unknown. I wouldn't be surprised if Wilkes knows I'm in New York, but he may not realize Alex and I are friends."

"Now he could," Henry pointed out. Neal heard another _thunk_ in the background. "Sara followed Alex. Wilkes could have hired someone to do the same. But even if Wilkes discovers you're helping her, he most likely wouldn't tell his client about you. I bet even if Rolf is involved, he doesn't suspect your connection. He may plan to leave a coded message for _Standing Stones_ once he's acquired the painting."

"To boast that he's still pulling the strings even though he's in prison?"

"Something like that." Henry was silent for a moment. "Alex must have presented a tricky situation for you and Sara."

"Yeah. I'm sure she had some anxious moments even though she hasn't mentioned any."

"You must have had as well."

No point in confirming the obvious. "At least, now Sara has a reason to visit White Collar. Outside work we shouldn't be seen together."

"Will you be able to work on the forgery during the day?"

"No. I'll need to be at the office during normal business hours just in case Alex is monitoring my movements. Peter wants me to go back to slacker status, though, and leave early."

"Then I may see you at June's. The Arkham Round Table meets tomorrow afternoon. What with the additional complications the Vermeer has provided, it should be quite a meeting."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

El didn't have a chance to see Peter before she left for a rehearsal with her community theatre group. She had a leading role in the play which was scheduled to premiere at the end of the month. It was a comedy. Should she treat what happened in the Arkham Files story as a comedy too?

By the time the rehearsal ended, it was late in the evening. As El parked the car, she agonized yet again on how to address the issue. If only she'd been upfront with Peter when they worked on the plot, it would have been so much simpler. Could she make a joke of it? After the matchmaking conspiracy, it felt odd not to have any hidden personal agenda?

Diana posted the chapter yesterday. Peter hadn't read it because he spent most of his free time stripping off wallpaper in the upstairs spare room they were remodeling. She'd made a ham loaf for dinner to thank him for the tedious chore while debating if she should go ahead and mention the changes in store for Arkham El. But if she did, would that place undue significance on it? As June had assured her, it was a natural development of the storyline. Peter might not suspect a hidden meaning.

But deep down, El knew that was wishful thinking. Peter didn't believe in coincidences. He was bound to believe she was the one who'd injected the development.

Was the chapter the topic of today's water-cooler chatter? Perhaps Peter was too busy to take part.

El knew what she needed to do as she walked up the front steps. They'd chat about it over a nightcap. She'd casually bring up the subject as something to laugh about. There was absolutely no reason to stress. Right. She took a deep breath, willing herself to believe that was true.

When she opened the front door, both Satchmo and Peter were there to greet her. She breathed a silent sigh of relief when Peter didn't act as if anything was wrong. She hadn't waited too long, after all.

Peter asked her about the rehearsal while she hung up her coat.

"I'm sorry you hadn't returned home by the time I needed to leave," she said. "Do you have a new case?"

"Yeah. I can't go into the details, but I can share this much. Sara's in town, and it will be a joint operation with Sterling-Bosch."

"Neal must be thrilled."

He hesitated for a moment making her wonder if there were warning flags hoisted. "Neal counts himself very fortunate," Peter said noncommittally. "Would you like some sherry?"

"You read my mind." She puzzled over Peter's answer. Was the case particularly challenging? If so, the silver lining was that Peter might have been too preoccupied to discuss anything in Arkham Files.

El walked into the living room. Peter's laptop was on the cocktail table, the monitor facing the couch.

"Go ahead and sit down," he suggested. "I'll get the drinks." He didn't stop to log off so El knew whatever he was working on wasn't case related.

As she sank onto the couch, she couldn't resist taking a peek at what was on the screen. Her heart dropped when she saw it was a chapter from _Standing Stones_. Not only that, the key page was being displayed. Despite her best intentions, El reread the words. They suddenly took on a different connotation.

Peter sat down beside her and placed their drinks on the table. "Whose idea was it for Arkham Elizabeth to be pregnant?"

"Mine," she admitted. "June and I discussed it. We thought it would add more depth to her character."

He gave a neutral nod, betraying no emotion. "Is there any other significance to it?"

"It's hard to say," she said, keeping her voice calm. She was simply discussing the arc of a fictional character. There was not necessarily any connection to the two of them. "What with algolnium now a component of El's body chemistry, there could be unforeseen complications. Mozzie suggested some rather dramatic developments, but I don't believe Diana's signed off on any of them."

He chuckled. "Now I know why she was so discomfited before the morning briefing. She appeared concerned about how I'd view it. Why didn't you tell me?"

"I was going to. It just never seemed like it was the right moment . . ." Her words trailed off and she took a hasty sip of sherry.

"Like with us?" Peter asked, looking at her with sympathy in his eyes. "We never seem to find the right moment to discuss kids."

She nodded, grateful beyond words for his understanding. "Honestly, it first came to my mind as an arc for my character. She needs something in her life besides worrying about Neal and researching zoogs. But as I mulled over possibilities, I thought about our own situation. We've put starting a family on hold for several years. Isn't it time to resume the conversation?"

"Especially since I turned forty this year?"

"It's not just you. In a few days, I'll be thirty-five."

"No one would believe it," Peter said gallantly, giving her a kiss. "I should have picked up on the clues in the previous Arkham Files story." He exhaled slowly. "You didn't want an office for your birthday. You want a baby. I bet you were hoping to turn that room into a nursery."

"That's not true," she protested, dismayed at his reaction. "I don't know what I want. I was test-driving the concept in the story in hopes it would help me decide. A baby would create a huge change in our lives. We'd need to establish new priorities, drop some of our activities. Is this what's best for us? I honestly don't know. How do you feel?"

"I guess I was waiting for you to say something. We'd talked about having kids, and I assumed we would someday. Should I take my cues from Arkham Peter?"

"Forget him. It's your thoughts I want to hear."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When Neal returned to the loft that evening, he called Alex to give her the bad news. "We hit a roadblock," he grumbled. "The risk factor just skyrocketed."

"What are you talking about?"

"Does a jewelry heist six days ago in Dorking, Surrey ring a bell? You were careless. Evidence connecting you to the heist was found on the scene, and you were followed to New York."

"That's impossible! They couldn't have anything on me."

"Not only do they have proof, but the insurer, Sterling-Bosch, came to White Collar requesting a joint operation. Alex, they know you're in town. They know what hotel you're staying at. They're watching all the exit points. With the net they've spread, I don't think there's anything I can do to prevent your arrest. Did you intend to pay me with one of the pieces of jewelry?"

Alex exhaled, not saying anything, but she'd already confirmed Sara's suspicions were correct.

"Have you already fenced them?" Neal asked. "If you haven't, it may be too late. Burke and his agents have made an art out of monitoring fences. Mozzie can attest to their skill."

"I wish that was the problem," Alex admitted bitterly. "Wilkes nabbed me after the heist and seized them. He claims he'll return them after I've acquired the painting."

"Is he in town?"

"Yeah, and probably tracking my every move. Any suggestions?"

Neal paused, pretending to consider their options. "Wilkes has been on Burke's radar for a long time. We may be able to turn this to our favor. I could tell them you'd reached out to me for help. You were coerced by Wilkes to do the job."

"You could tell him that I'd double-crossed Wilkes because he'd hurt a friend," Alex said. "And that's not a lie. You're not the only one who's witnessed his brutality."

Neal knew he had her when she started to fill in the details for him. "If you offer to cooperate with them to take him down, you may be able to cut a deal. But you won't be able to keep the jewels."

"Not even one piece?"

"I don't see how. They have a list of the stolen items."

She sighed. "It will be painful, but okay. How would the painting figure in?"

"They don't know anything about it. It will be tricky, but I think we'll be able to sell the painting to Wilkes. Once he's paid you for it, we'll arrange for the Bureau to be on hand for the jewelry exchange. I'll tell the feds that you have the jewels. Wilkes had ordered you to meet him in New York. Supposedly your debt to him will be erased when you turn over the jewels. The Bureau will never know that they aren't in your possession now. I'll tell them you stashed them somewhere and won't tell me. Wilkes won't say anything about the painting. He won't want to be charged with an additional crime."

"There are a lot of moving pieces to this scam," she warned.

"You're not worried, are you? The greater the challenge, the greater the reward."

"But I can't just waltz into the Federal Building and say let's make a deal."

"Leave that to me," he assured her. "My connections are why I was able to get a contract with the Bureau. I can tell them that you contacted me for help with Wilkes without giving away any specifics, and I persuaded you to work with us."

The door to his loft opened as he was talking. Mozzie stepped inside, carrying more supplies.

"I'll need to know a lot more about this plan of yours," Alex warned.

"And you will, but we better not try to meet. I'm using a burner phone. I assume you are too."

"Of course."

"Good, because they don't trust me. It's not only you they're keeping track of."

"I take it Alex agreed," Mozzie said once Neal had rung off.

"She did." Neal stood up from the couch. He related the gist of their conversation while checking the paints Mozzie had acquired.

Mozzie placed a blank canvas on the easel. "You've set yourself a tall order, mon frère—conning Alex and Wilkes before they double-cross you."

Neal winced at the inclusion of Alex.

"Alex will help you up to a point," Mozzie continued. "She prefers to have you owing her a favor rather than the other way around." He mimicked the motion of a wave with one hand. "All the while Wilkes will be circling you both, biding his time till he can snatch you for himself. How did you leave matters with him?"

"On unfriendly terms. I backed out of a job. He probably felt it was a double-cross but the only remuneration I got was relief from not having to work for him."

"Is he familiar with your forgery expertise?"

"I never forged anything for him, and he's not an art expert. I doubt he knows about my skill."

"How likely is it that he knows you're working with Alex?"

Neal hesitated. "She insists she didn't tell him, but if he was following her, he would have seen us together at the lounge or at the museum."

"For a job such as this, it's always best to assume the worst-case scenario."

"Any suggestions on how to pull it off?" Neal asked hopefully.

Mozzie retrieved a deck of playing cards from the bookcase. Sitting down at the dinette table, he began to sort them. "Find the Lady has potential."

Pulling a fast one with Three-card Monte? Count Neal in.

Mozzie placed the queen of hearts, the jack of spades, and the jack of clubs face up on the table. "The queen is the genuine painting. The queen of hearts is symbolic of our Cupid-smitten lovers. The jacks are the two forgeries you'll make."

"Two?" Neal repeated with a gulp. It would be a time crunch to prepare one.

"Surely not that much more difficult," Mozzie said nonchalantly. "Each step you'll simply repeat before proceeding. One of the forgeries will be for Wilkes. He won't keep it for long if the suits do their job as I know they will. The second will be for Alex who'll believe she has the original. She won't realize her mistake until it's too late." He smiled benevolently. "Of course, if she doesn't try to make off with the painting you won't need an extra."

"But this is Alex," Neal said with a chuckle. "She knows how to look after herself."

"Does she expect you to make a forgery?"

"No, she doesn't know that I'm able to fool experts, and I don't want her to find out." Neal studied the blown-up photo of the painting in front of him. Find the Vermeer Lady had a definite appeal, and preparing two identical paintings wouldn't take as long as two separate ones. But forging one Vermeer in the allotted time would mean several sleepless nights. Could he possibly squeeze in one more? He'd already told Alex he'd steal the painting on Sunday night. The work posed unique difficulties because of the different restoration techniques which had been used on it. She'd wanted an earlier schedule, but he'd held her off, hoping she'd agree to Monday when the museum was closed. Sunday evening was the compromise solution.

"I really should take one of your works-in-progress to the Round Table discussion tomorrow," Mozzie said, studying a photo of the painting. "You'll be at the office so you won't miss it. Everyone there already knows what you're doing."

"Why would you want to?" Neal asked, dismayed at the idea. "I will have barely started them."

"For inspiration, of course. The theme of love is highly relevant to the Arkham Files storyline, not that I can get Lady Suit to understand it," he added in a mutter.

"You can't get Diana to go along with your aliens-in-love idea?"

Mozzie shook his head despondently. "Doesn't she realize Lavinia's clock is ticking? With El pregnant, it would make the perfect counterfoil."

"What? El's pregnant?"

"You haven't read the latest chapter? Neal!"

"Sorry, Mozz. What with Alex and just a few other projects, I haven't gotten around to it. Does Peter know?"

"El was planning to tell him tonight. Your reaction to the news is a clear indication of how the world demands more romance and less violence in Arkham Files."

The world? Was someone suffering from delusions of grandeur?

"Diana demands more scenes which pass the Bechdel test," Mozzie went on, oblivious to Neal's unvoiced opinion. "If she'd only develop the love Lavinia clearly displays for me, she'd have the perfect justification for delightful chats between Lavinia, El, and Sara?"

Neal tuned Mozzie out. Not for him to stress about Bechdel conversations. The woman in the painting was calling to him to tell her tale, and her clock was ticking even faster.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Valentine's Day is coming up," Angela reminded Eric. "It's the ideal opportunity."

Eric appeared to ignore her as he stood back to eye the mast Michael was holding up. "Did we make it too tall?"

"I don't think so," Michael said. "Remember it will be flying the Jolly Roger. We don't want the kids to get entangled in the flag."

Angela sighed. This was one time she wished they weren't quite so conscientious. Michael and Eric had sacrificed precious evening time to meet with her in the basement of Dodge Hall. They were building props for her _Lost in Neverland_ musical. This semester she was working with a group of six- and seven-year-olds with learning issues. She'd hoped the fantasy environment would enrich the teaching experience for them. And, of course, she'd been far too ambitious, dismissing her adviser's warnings.

Some might wonder why she even bothered with Henry and Eric's love life. But her fiancé Michael knew better. He understood she could multitask brilliantly, and now that her and Neal's love boats were sailing so smoothly, she was determined to let nothing sink Henry and Eric's apparently rudderless craft.

"The mast is perfect," she declared. "It's break time, and those treats Michael baked are calling to me. The pirate ship can wait."

Over chocolate strawberry cupcakes and some of the endless coffee she and Michael guzzled to survive grad school, Angela described her idea in a dazzling display of unassailable logic.

"Now that Henry's on the Arkham Round Table, the timing is perfect," Angela concluded. "If you don't say something, Mozzie and Diana will introduce someone else, and no telling who Arkham Henry will wind up with. It could be a zoog-infested cult member," she warned ominously.

Eric rolled his eyes. "Not exactly someone I'd worry about as a rival."

"But you don't know that for sure," Michael argued. "What if Diana creates a stud muffin for Henry to drool over? What then?"

Angela could have jumped onto Michael's lap and showered him with kisses for the support. "Exactly! Eric, you and Henry could wind up having long arguments over what happens in Arkham Files, even though it has nothing to do with your own situation."

When Eric didn't challenge her point, she continued with her masterstroke. "Look at Neal and Sara. Can you imagine Arkham Neal being with anyone other than Sara? And Neal's the first one to admit how helpful the Arkham characters have been for their relationship." She paused when she heard footsteps in the corridor. A few seconds later, Henry walked in.

"Sorry, I'm late." His eyes widened when he saw the platter of sweets. "I arrived just in time."

Angela smiled. _Those cupcakes are going to cost you._

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Why two forgeries?" Peter asked, narrowing his eyes at his weary consultant.

Neal had lassoed Peter as soon as he arrived at work, filling him in on what Neal called the Find the Vermeer Lady con. Peter was familiar with three-card monte, but playing it with multiple Vermeers seemed, in a word, _excessive_. Disaster-in-the-making was even more apt. It didn't help that Neal was already looking tired. He'd probably worked on the dual forgeries all night.

Neal shrugged. "Insurance. I like Alex but I don't trust her. If this turns into a shell game, I want to be prepared."

"Will you be able to paint two copies in time?"

"It will be tight, but I got a good start last night. I was able to convince her that I needed to wait till Sunday evening to do the job. I told her the museum was updating its security software this week, and that would be my first chance."

"She thinks you have a way to hack the software."

Neal nodded. "Sitting next to Travis in the lab pays fringe benefits."

Peter still wasn't happy with the idea. He had a niggling fear that the sting would blow up in their faces. Neal and Alex's personal history was a major factor. It wasn't that he doubted Neal's trustworthiness. But would Alex suspect he was playing her? From the first time he saw Alex's photo, Peter had been struck by how much she reminded him of Neal. Peter had no doubt she was every bit as smart and crafty. Neal would need to be on his A-game, not a sleep-deprived zombie.

"All right, you've got my approval, but there will be stipulations."

"Namely?"

"For the rest of the week when you're in the office, you're to report to Storeroom 51 and get as much sleep as possible." The small unused office had been appropriated as a retreat where overworked agents could catch some shuteye. "You are under no circumstances to drink coffee or any other caffeinated beverages at work. Do I make myself clear?"

Neal grinned. "You're such a dad. Is this preparation for the stork's arrival in Arkham?"

Peter groaned. "Did you know about that?"

"Only when Mozzie told me last night. I'd meant to read the chapter Monday evening, but after I found the message from Alex, it slipped my mind. I gather it was news to you too?" At Peter's nod, his smile grew wider. "That must have been quite a conversation you and El had last night."

"She claims she was thinking of the story arc when she suggested it."

"So she admits she instigated it." Neal nodded sagely. "A bold move. I suspect an ulterior motive though."

"You too?"

"She wants to prepare the team for the frightening prospect of you no longer hovering over us because you'll be too busy with little Lisbeth."

"Don't get your hopes up," Peter growled, deepening his voice. "And you never answered me. Do I have your word to live up to the agreement?"

"You do, and I promise to set a good example for my baby sister or brother." His eyes widened. "You could have twins!"

"Out of here!" Peter bellowed.

Peter suppressed his chuckle till Neal had closed the door. The teasing was a welcome way to ease Neal's tension, if not his own. If only the baby could be at least ten years old at birth, Peter might be able to manage. He had no problem getting his team to obey him. But a squalling baby? Someone who couldn't be reasoned with? And if the kid looked like El, he'd be a bowl of mush. Peter took a glug of lukewarm coffee and nearly sloshed it over his shirt. El had been wise to test-drive the concept in a story. They'd talked about parenthood in the abstract, but this was one op he hadn't begun to prepare for.

* * *

_Notes: Peter won't have much time to stew about a possible addition to the family. In Chapter 3: Runaround, Find the Vermeer Lady takes on a heightened sense of urgency even as romantic complications multiply like rabbits._

_Chapter Visuals and Music: The Progress of Love board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_   
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_   
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	3. Runaround

**June's mansion. February 8, 2006. Wednesday afternoon.**

"Thanks for coming early," Diana said, addressing the group assembled around June's dining table. For the moment, the Arkham Round Table meeting was restricted to women only with June, El, and Tricia all in attendance.

Mozzie and Henry had been ordered under pain of excommunication to not arrive before two o'clock. Diana used June's amazing chief Emil as the excuse. He was preparing a high tea feast to welcome Henry's first official participation in the writing group and it wouldn't be ready till then. Grilled salmon and mushroom stuffed potatoes that made her feel like she'd been transported to gourmet heaven were both on the menu. There would be chocolate cake in Henry's honor and also lemon-rosemary scones.

"I didn't want to start Henry's first meeting on a contentious note," Diana added. "He might assume I was holding a grudge because of his secret machinations last fall. As for Mozzie"—Diana paused to vent the sigh which demanded to be released—"he's hopeless on the topic."

"You're talking about the romance angle in the stories," Tricia said with a knowing nod.

"That's right. It's threatening to get out of hand. Many could easily say it already has." She kept her eyes fixed on Tricia but noted with a certain amount of satisfaction the uneasy eye exchange between El and June. "We could justify the romance between Neal and Sara as it was used to highlight Neal's alien nature and the pernicious effects of the Ymar. I went along—reluctantly—with the fluffy bits in _Sands of Abydos_. You caught me in a weak moment with that story."

"Plus the Mansfelds had been captured," June pointed out. "You hadn't decided if you wanted to continue writing the series. Ending on a happy note for the protagonist was fitting."

Diana observed El's reticence to speak up. She was probably feeling guilty. She knew what Diana was going to bring up. She should be grateful that Diana was sparing her the men's participation.

"But now Rolf's injected himself back into our lives . . . and our stories," Diana reminded them, not that there was any chance they'd forgotten. "As Tricia has already pointed out so ably, the stories are back to being a psychological tool. I'm not saying that I'm opposed to romantic threads, but we can't lose sight of our purpose. What I propose is that before any new thread is introduced, it needs to be justified before the entire round table and subjected to an analysis of its relevance."

"Arkham Elizabeth could have a miscarriage," El volunteered, and damn if it didn't look like she was suggesting one for herself. What kind of ogre did she think Diana was? El was probably already researching baby clothes of the '70s.

"There's no need for that," Diana said hastily. "Although you may wish to consult with my co-writer about his ideas."

"It's Mozzie's romance that's the issue, isn't it?" June asked.

"In spades," she confirmed gloomily. "I tried to point out what a hornet's nest he'd cause. As it is, I'm getting requests from readers who're shipping various combinations of characters. But nobody—and I mean _nobody_ —ships Mozzie and Lavinia. With Valentine's Day coming up, I know what Mozzie's going to propose and I want us to be united against it."

"Perhaps his girlfriend Janet can help," Tricia suggested. "Surely she's not interested in seeing Mozzie besotted over an alien."

"You'd be surprised," Diana said darkly. "Janet's in my martial arts class. When I spoke to her about it, she deluged me with ideas based on the bizarre mating practices of sea creatures and insects. Not helpful." Diana started snickering despite herself. "Although the one about the female praying mantis biting the head off of her mate has a certain appeal."

"The issue may not be brought up," El said hastily. Did she think Diana had saved the idea for future use? "Don't we have a far more serious topic to consider? Namely, what is our new strategy against the Mansfelds? Last year, our goal was to make the brothers feel sympathetic toward Neal and Peter."

"And we were successful," Tricia said. "Particularly with Klaus. As for Rolf, the time for the reverse Stockholm syndrome is over. His desire for revenge is a poison that could be eating him up inside."

"Plus we need to factor in an unknown accomplice," Diana said. "If Rolf commissioned Wilkes to procure the Vermeer, someone must be helping him."

"Mozzie's suggestion that Rolf could be involved with the Pod also shouldn't be discounted," Tricia cautioned. "A ring of hackers who target video game producers with ransomware demands fits Rolf's profile. Under the circumstances, the best policy is for us to go ahead and assume that the unknown associate is real." She turned to Diana. "For Arkham Files, this will mean a new strategy where we'll seek to cause dissension between the two. If Rolf believes he's been relegated to a secondary role while his associate grabs the limelight, his wounded ego may cause him to make mistakes."

"What code word will we use to designate the associate?" June asked.

"Mozzie suggested the Outer God most closely linked to Lovecraft, namely Cthulhu." Diana sat back to observe their reactions.

El grimaced. "Must we?"

Tricia shrugged helplessly. Smart woman, she knew it was already a fait accompli. "We've been calling Rolf Azathoth for over a year," Tricia said. "Thinking of his hypothetical partner as Cthulhu may spark story ideas. Undoubtedly it already has for Mozzie."

"And there he is now," Diana murmured, spotting him through the beveled-glass doors which separated the dining room from the hallway. "Ladies, I'm counting on your support."

"What did I miss?" Mozzie asked inquisitively as he walked in carrying a wine box.

"Nothing important," El assured him. "Just girl talk."

"That's my favorite kind! You must fill me in." He set the box down on the table. "I brought along a case of my special vintage Honey Wine for Lovers to enjoy with Emil's excellent feast. There's an ample supply so you can all take a bottle home to your sweethearts. The wine will put us in the appropriate mood for story plotting!"

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal had come home on the early side to work on the paintings. The Round Table was still meeting behind closed doors when he arrived. By the time Henry showed up, he was ready for a break.

"Man, what a tough crowd," Henry said, dropping onto the sofa.

Neal placed his paintbrush on the palette. "You're complaining because they didn't let you run the show? It's only your first session. In a few weeks, they'll be putty in your hands."

Henry smiled as if he was already planning on it. "Actually they were very accommodating to most of my ideas. It was only when I mentioned Eric, that I hit a stone wall."

"Since when is Eric in Arkham Files?"

"Based on their reaction, not for a while. It seemed like a reasonable idea. Angela was the one who dreamed it up. She said that since the stories worked out so well for you and Sara, Eric should be included too." Henry smiled. "He's excited about the idea."

"Go ahead and admit it. You are, too."

"Well, yeah, especially since love is in the air in Arkham, as Mozzie describes it. But, sheesh, Diana refused to even discuss the concept. It made me wonder if she and Christie have hit a rough patch."

"For what little my opinion is worth, and believe me it's not much with that group, I'll second the idea of Eric's inclusion. Mozzie's a co-writer. I bet he'll figure out a way to insert him, although it's possible Eric will have a few alien characteristics."

"I'm already braced for it." Henry stood up and approached the easels. "Hate to tell you but your paintings don't look anything like the original."

"That's because I'm building up colors," Neal explained patiently. "Come back on Friday or better yet, Saturday morning. That's my target date to have them ready for aging." He stood back to study the canvases.

"Why are you frowning?"

"Soon I'll have to start adding the crap inflicted by shoddy restorers. I'd love to be able to paint her like she might have originally looked." He turned to Henry. "And maybe I will someday. It could be a great subject for a workshop."

"You've really been enjoying those, haven't you?"

Neal nodded. "Sherkov's given me carte blanche to choose the artists. The papers I have to write aren't nearly as much fun."

"Tomorrow's your day at Columbia. Can you punt your classes to work on the forgeries?"

"Not during the day. In addition to the seminars, I'm scheduled to meet with Sherkov. He'll have my hide if I don't show up." Neal grimaced as he remembered he still hadn't prepared for the meeting. "He wants an update on my progress in deciding on a dissertation topic."

"Let me guess. There hasn't been any?"

"It's that obvious? I'm going to try to divert him onto my master's thesis, not that it's much further along, but at least I have a subject."

"Michael was groaning about his dissertation when we worked on Angela's props last night. He was surprised you have to write a master's thesis. He said most doctoral candidates aren't required to. The master's requirements are rolled into the PhD work."

Michael was a year ahead of Neal in the art history program. He was doing it the standard way with no second master's, and no full-time job to perform on the side.

"Sherkov had to convince the department to waive some of the requirements for me to be entered into the program," Neal explained. "You no doubt remember the small matter of my not having graduated from high school. If I survive till May those two master's diplomas will finally put that issue to rest."

"Not to mention earning you the blowout celebration party I will be in charge of," Henry said, clapping him on the shoulder. "I'll leave you with your Vermeer girlfriend. Don't stress about the other stuff. There will be plenty of time for that later. And remember to get some sleep."

Neal chuckled ruefully. "You're starting to sound a lot like Peter."

"You've got it backward, kiddo. My brilliance is rubbing off on him. You helped me get my master's. Now I'm returning the favor."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Henry's pep talk had a positive effect. Neal settled in to paint with renewed determination. He even managed to grab a couple of hours of sleep. The following day, he conned his way through the meeting with Sherkov, leaving the impression that he was actively exploring several options. His advisor was sufficiently satisfied to not press for details. There was the small matter of a mandatory written report due in two weeks which would analyze those so-far imaginary options, but he wasn't going to hassle his head about that quite yet.

By the time, Neal returned to the office on Friday, he felt like the hump was over. Two Vermeers in six days—yes, he was White Collar's overachiever, even if hardly anyone would ever know about it. Peter had ordered him to work reduced hours this week, claiming that for anyone monitoring him, it would reinforce his image as a slacker. Even for Neal, it was hard to believe it wasn't true when his only assignment at work was to report to Storeroom 51.

Before heading to the sleep cave, he dropped by his desk to check emails. He had to check himself from stopping at the breakroom for a mug of the Bureau's custom swill. Peter would pounce on it, and, frankly, he'd drunk so much last night that his stomach churned its disapproval at the mere thought.

The bullpen was quieter than normal. Both Jones and Diana were out, perhaps monitoring Alex. Neal hadn't heard anything from her in a couple of days. Was that a good sign? She knew she was being followed but Alex's skill at eluding tails was almost on a par with his.

Neal opened the Interpol art crimes bulletin and began skimming the contents . . .

The sound of footsteps made his eyes snap open.

"Sorry to wake you," Peter said.

"I wasn't asleep," Neal protested. "Just—"

"—pondering the meaning of life? Um-hm. Normally I'd order you to Storeroom 51, but Tricia's asked to meet with us in my office. Think you can stay awake for a few minutes? She's on her way."

Neal had no trouble focusing on the discussion when he heard the subject—the two paintings of his that had sold at an art gallery the previous month.

"I don't want you to think there's anything illicit about the sale," Tricia cautioned. "But in view of the Mansfelds' interest in your art, extra scrutiny is warranted."

"Especially since both subjects were connected to them," Peter added.

"But that's not necessarily significant," Neal objected. "I was supposed to draw on personal experiences for the exhibition, and the brothers were a big factor in my life that year."

"It's simply one data point among many which need to be considered," Tricia said calmly.

Neal took a breath and nodded. His nerves were more frayed than he'd realized. Lack of sleep did that. He vowed to not ring any more alarm bells. Peter had enough concerns without him piling on.

"We know either Rolf or Klaus visited your first-year exhibition," Tricia continued. "Personally, my money's on Klaus. He'd already visited you at your studio where you discussed your paintings. You explained how the two of you connected on the purely artistic plane, separate from thoughts of heists."

"Tricia, you'd already looked into the sales," Peter pointed out. "Has something new popped up?"

She nodded. "After the sale of the second painting, I decided to order a more extensive investigation. I repeat that there's nothing underhanded about the transactions. The corporations which bought the works did so upon the advice of their art consultant. I think it's a simple coincidence that the art consultants they employ are from the same firm. Interpol confirmed that they're one of the top ten corporate art firms with clients all over the world."

"Which one is it?" Neal asked.

"Fuchspartners," she said. "It's headquartered in Frankfurt, Germany."

"What is it, Neal?" Peter asked. "Do you recognize the name?"

Neal nodded. "Tricia's information is correct. I'm staggered to think that I was on their recommended list."

Tricia smiled and turned to Peter. "You're probably aware that the gallery where Neal's works are being sold is owned by his art advisor's partner. The gallery was cited as an excellent source for new artists with investment potential."

"Frankfurt . . ." Peter drummed his fingers on the table and turned to Neal. "Isn't that where the Mansfeld parents live?"

"Yeah, and that's not the only connection. Klaus had mentioned Siegfried Fuchs to me. He's one of the partners of the art firm. Siegfried and Klaus attended university together. They share a love of art as well as frustration over not being artists themselves. Klaus once made a joke that they channeled that frustration into lucrative professions. When I was working for him, he remained in contact with Siegfried. Supposedly Siegfried didn't suspect that Klaus was a thief."

"That's certainly plausible," Tricia agreed. "Klaus was maintaining his cover as an investment advisor for his family's company back then. There would have been no reason for Fuchs to suspect anything was amiss. At my request, Interpol researched Fuchspartners"—she glanced at Neal—"discreetly. I'm sure the firm was unaware of it."

That was reassuring. The last thing Neal needed was to have his reputation as an artist tainted by rumors of being linked to the Mansfelds.

"The firm has a stellar reputation and nothing was found to diminish it," Tricia said.

"Has Fuchs reached out to Klaus in prison?" Peter asked.

"Not in the States, but he visited him in the Hungarian prison," she said and turned to Neal. "No one's accused Fuchs of doing any suspicious behavior but I'd like your take on the nature of his relationship with Klaus."

Neal took a moment to consider, forcing himself to view it objectively. "It must have been a shock for Siegfried to learn of Klaus's crimes. The nature of Klaus's supposed death at the Met Museum was kept confidential for a long time, and then to find out Klaus was the Leopard . . ." Neal tried to think how he would have reacted in similar circumstances. "If their friendship was strong enough, it could have survived. In that case, it's possible that Klaus has been occasionally advising Siegfried on purchases. Perhaps Siegfried is encouraging it as a means of rehabilitation."

Tricia nodded. "That's my assessment as well. Based on Klaus's conduct toward you in Hungary, he appeared to be experiencing a great deal of remorse for what he and his brother put you through. Under the circumstances, it's understandable that he might recommend your art to FuchsPartners."

Neal winced. "I don't know how I should feel about that. Should I send him a thank you?"

"I'd hold off on that for the moment," Peter said, smiling sympathetically.

"Has Klaus reached out to you?" Tricia asked.

"No, and I haven't to him," Neal said.

"I'd like to recommend you consider it," she said.

Peter shot her a dismayed look. "Is that really advisable?"

"I know it's risky," she said. "But if Klaus genuinely regrets his actions, he may be able to assist us with Rolf. At the moment Rolf is a far greater danger. I don't think we should leave any avenue unexplored."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Forget sleep. Tricia's proposal was a jolt of triple espresso. Although Neal went to Storeroom 51, he knew his brain would stay in overdrive.

The small storage space was furnished with a couch and an old metal desk. There were pillows and blankets in the storage cabinet and not much else. There were no windows so the room was pitch black when the lights were extinguished. Some wag had plugged a blue dragon nightlight into a wall outlet. He wouldn't be at all surprised if that had been Diana's contribution.

A small whiteboard was attached to the door where agents could scribble reserved times. Peter had written in Neal's name for the rest of the week. By Monday, hopefully he wouldn't need it.

Neal retrieved the pillows and placed them on the couch. Toeing off his loafers, he flopped onto the cushions and gazed absently at the acoustic panels in the ceiling. He'd already been thinking about writing Klaus, but he hadn't planned anything definite. He agreed with Tricia that if Klaus had recommended his art to Siegfried, his intent wasn't malicious. There was nothing he could have gained from it.

Was the gesture made to help ease Klaus's conscience? Artists who could afford it used agents. Should Neal now consider Klaus his agent? Those two paintings were the first sales he'd made under his own name. Neal could still taste the joy he'd felt at the news. Although he'd sold one of the paintings at last year's exhibition, it didn't count since Eric had bought it for Henry's new loft.

Even if Klaus had put in a plug for Neal, the corporations made the final decision. Nothing had tainted the sales. Klaus knew how difficult it was for a new artist to gain recognition, and Neal was grateful for the gesture. Peter should be too. It could be viewed as Klaus's way of encouraging Neal to stay legit.

Peter was undoubtedly stewing over the hidden pitfalls and what complications might surface if Neal reached out to Klaus. Once this op was over, Neal wanted to discuss it with Sara for her perspective. The buzzing of a cell phone made him think Sara had psychically heard his wish and was calling him. Then he realized it was the burner phone—the one Alex used. She wouldn't call him at work unless it was urgent.

He let it ring several times before answering. As he spoke into the phone, he opened the door then closed it. "Something come up?"

"Can you talk?" Alex asked.

"Yeah, I moved into an empty interrogation room when you rang."

"That's appropriate. What kind of scam are you running?" Her voice bristled with anger. "If you think you can get away with playing me, you've—"

"Calm down. I'm sticking my neck out to help you. What makes you think otherwise?"

"What else am I supposed to believe when your girlfriend is in town?"

"What are you talking about?" Neal said, adding a frustrated huff.

"Don't play the innocent with me. Sara Ellis, who else? And don't try to deny it. Raquel filled me in on all the sordid details."

Neal flashed back to his conversations with Raquel in Venice at the beginning of the year. Raquel knew he was seeing Sara, but she assumed Neal had been ordered to date her by Steinar Wolff, Peter's undercover alias. Raquel readily believed Neal was using Sara to learn about her company's clients. That meant Alex was making a calculated move to throw him off his game. "If you got your information from Raquel, you know that I've been playing Sara, not you," he retorted. "How do you think I found out about Sterling-Bosch being on your trail?"

"Do you honestly expect me to believe that you would string along an insurance agent?"

"Wouldn't you if they could provide you access to wealthy clients?"

"This isn't the Neal Caffrey I know," she insisted.

"I have a different handler these days. I've been forced to adjust." He added a note of bitterness to his voice and ran his hand through his hair for good measure, knowing Alex would hear it.

"So it's true what Raquel said?"

"Yes, it's true." Not a lie. The word _it_ could refer to anything.

"How long have you been seeing her?"

"We worked on a joint op last spring and again in the fall." He had no idea how much Raquel knew about their dating history, but he and Sara had faked a dating relationship in September. "It's been so profitable, I've been keeping it up despite her living in London."

"It couldn't have been easy. Surely she knows of your reputation with the FBI and Interpol." The angry tone had faded. Neal breathed easier.

"It hasn't been, and there's still a lot of mistrust. What can I say? She likes bad boys." He took a moment to let his words sink in. "Alex, you're my friend. You know I'd never do anything to hurt you." And he was absolutely sincere about that.

"You can't blame a girl for being a little paranoid."

"If you were worried about my dates with Sara, why did you approach me?"

She exhaled. "When I talked with Raquel, it was so obvious that you were conning Sara. Raquel's convinced that Steinar ordered you to keep her close."

"Keep your friends close and your enemies closer?" Neal said sympathetically. That was the conclusion he and Henry were aiming for during the U-boat con. He hadn't realized it had worked so well.

"Exactly. When I heard about Ellis being in town, I leaped to the wrong conclusion. When your life is filled with cons, it's hard not to believe everything is."

"I know." Deceiving Alex was leaving a bad taste in his mouth. He told himself it was for Alex's best interest too, but that didn't make it any easier.

After Alex ended the call, Neal contacted Sara and Peter. How had Alex known Sara was in town? It was possible she'd spied on Sterling-Bosch, but none of the monitoring teams had reported her being close to their office. Had someone tipped her off? Like Wilkes? Alex claimed she hadn't told him about Neal, but was she telling the truth?

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When Diana heard a light tap on the back door to the surveillance van, her initial inclination was to ignore it, but Jones decided to check it out. He was probably bored. They'd been parked outside Alex's hotel for hours with nothing to show for it.

"Mozzie?" Jones simply stared at him for a moment. "Why are you here?"

"I realized you'd need a little refreshment." He jumped inside, carrying two shopping bags. "Call it a pre-Valentine's Day celebration. I have amaretto coffee and cupcakes." He retrieved a box from the larger bag and Diana placed her fist over her mouth to silence her moan. "Red velvet, cherry bomb, triple chocolate, raspberry beret, I hope there's something you find appealing."

"You're trying to bribe us," Diana accused but she heard the waver in her voice, as the aroma from the cupcakes pulled her closer.

"Never," he denied vigorously. "I simply wanted to keep two valued members of the FBI Gestapo in tiptop shape."

"Now I know you're full of it," Jones said, reaching for a cupcake. "But I don't care."

Diana reached for the triple-chocolate beacon of pleasure. "I'm still not sanctioning your so-called romance with Lavinia."

He took the lids off the coffee cups. "Everything is negotiable. Let the bidding commence."

"Don't confuse the Round Table with democracy," she warned. "Plots are not decided by a popularity contest."

"What do you have in mind for my character?" Jones demanded, helping himself to a raspberry beret. "He's virtually disappeared for the past several stories. I was disappointed to learn that Arkham Jones didn't even come up during this week's planning session—one that I had to miss because of my surveillance responsibilities." He cocked a brow at Diana.

This was a tricky situation. Jones was her superior at work if not in Arkham. Jones's opinion carried much more weight than Mozzie's. Fortunately, she'd already thought of a plausible delaying tactic. "Henry's working on your character and has several promising ideas, but they'll have to wait till after the next story." She and Christie had plans for the evening. She didn't want to wind up being scheduled for the night shift too.

"One idea I did like," Jones conceded, "was the Tudor Crown. I hadn't even heard of the artifact." He turned to Mozzie. "Tricia told me it was your idea. How did you come up with it?"

"Lost treasures are one of my specialties," he dismissed airily. He handed a napkin to Diana and stroked his upper lip. She quickly wiped chocolate frosting from her mouth.

"But I'm glad you brought it up," Mozzie continued. "The Tudor Crown is an ideal device to encourage Cupid to pay Lavinia a call."

"Cupid will have to wait his turn," she retorted. "Where's the gripping story arc for Jones and me? You and Henry owe us after all the favors we did for Neal and Sara. It's payback time." When he didn't respond, she added in her take-no-prisoners voice, "Is that understood?"

Mozzie had his eyes riveted to the display. "Did you notice the man who just entered the building?"

"Yeah, what about him?" Jones rewound the feed to take another look.

"Search your database for Sebastian Hendricks," he said. "He's better known as 'Hatchet Hendricks.' Nasty character. He's done a few jobs for Wilkes. Now what, I wonder, is his business with Alex?"

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

By the end of a long day on Saturday, Neal had finished the brushwork on the forgeries. All that remained was aging the canvas. He'd refined the craquelure application to a three-step process. Each step was separated by a few hours of curing time. He took advantage of the evening lull to visit his art studio at Columbia where his own works were forlornly awaiting his attention. The fifteen-minute walk from June's mansion was a refreshing break after being cooped up inside all day.

On the return trip, Neal took his time ambling along Riverside Drive. A block from June's, he was approached by a man with olive skin in his twenties. Since he was carrying a map, Neal assumed he was going to ask for directions.

As the stranger drew near, he held the map in front of his face. "I have a message for you from Sara Ellis." He pointed to a dingy white cargo van parked along the street. "Follow me."

His heart beating a staccato warning, Neal knew who the delivery man would be. He stealthily pressed a side button on his custom Bureau watch. Travis's team would receive the GPS signal and begin monitoring the live audio feed.

The courier opened the back door of the van and gestured for Neal to enter. As expected, Ryan Wilkes was waiting for him. There was no sign of Sara.

"Neal Caffrey, it's been too long," Wilkes sneered. "The last time you cut out on me, we had some unfinished business to settle."

_Like you wanted to kill me?_ Alex told Neal she hadn't mentioned him to Wilkes. Had she lied or had Wilkes discovered Neal was helping her? Mozzie had spotted one of his henchmen go into Alex's hotel. Did she tell him about Sara?

"I could say this is a pleasure, but we both know that'd be a lie," Neal said. There was no point in trying to con Wilkes. He already knew Neal despised him. "You have a message for me?"

"That pretty Sterling-Bosch investigator you've been seeing is my insurance policy. You mess up in any way, her life will be canceled." The dark brown skin on his face hardened. Wilkes might dress dapperly, but he was the most ruthless man Neal had ever met. "I know you're helping Alex get the painting, and that's fine by me. But if you try to double-cross me, Sara will pay the price."

"How do I know you have her?"

"I thought you'd never ask." Wilkes swiveled his laptop so Neal could view the feed. Sara was sitting bound to a chair, a gag over her mouth. Her dress was streaked with dirt but she didn't appear to be injured. Wilkes pushed a speed-dial number. "We're ready for the demonstration," he said into the phone.

The pop of gunfire was heard clearly through the phone. Sara started, her green eyes wide with shock, as a bullet dug a hole into the plasterboard a foot from her head.

"Next time my associate will aim for her forehead," Wilkes said calmly. "But I know you won't let that happen. You get me the painting. The pretty lady goes free. You screw up, not only will she die but I'll provide evidence to her employers as well as yours about what you've been up to. Your reputation will be ruined. You'll have no choice but to work for me." He gave a cold smile. "I've found it's always helpful to not beat around the bush, don't you agree?"

* * *

_Notes: Cons and double-crosses are coming your way in next week's chapter. Find the Lady is no longer just a scam, but a matter of life and death. You'll need to wait a little longer for Mozzie's idea about the Tudor Crown. The Arkham Files story he was referring to is Queen's Gambit. It will be posted starting in mid-August._

_Chapter Visuals and Music: The Progress of Love board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_   
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_   
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


	4. Find the Lady

**Neal's loft. February 11, 2006. Saturday evening.**

"Wilkes has Sara." Neal fought to keep his voice under control so Peter wouldn't think he was as freaked out as he was. The bullet plowing into the plasterboard next to Sara's head played in an endless loop in his head.

Wilkes had shoved him out of the van with a final warning to not screw up if he didn't want Sara's blood on his hands. Neal barely held it together to transmit the safe word through his watch. He wasn't the one in danger.

"Travis had already contacted me and was reporting the transmission when you called." Peter was speaking more slowly than normal. Neal recognized the tactic, but the attempt to calm him wasn't working. There was a loud thrumming in his ears that wouldn't go away. "Were you able to get the license plate number of the van?"

Neal stopped pacing to stare through the French doors onto the terrace. Somewhere in the city, Sara was tied up, Wilkes's prisoner.

"Neal, what can you tell me about the van?"

"White, grimy. Late-model Ford cargo van." Neal swallowed down the bile creeping up his throat and took a breath before continuing. "The license plate was covered in mud. I couldn't read it."

"That's okay. The ID Mozzie gave of Hatchet Hendricks provided a search zone. Agents tracked him to East Harlem before they lost him. The odds are excellent he's working with Wilkes."

"The only person I saw in the feed was Sara. She was sitting on a metal stool in front of a blank white wall. No one else was in the video. No other sounds or identifying marks . . ." His words trailed off. There was virtually nothing to go on. Just because Hendricks went to East Harlem didn't necessarily indicate Sara was there, and even if she was, the area was too large to be searched effectively.

"We'll find her, Neal. Sara's a pro. She'll come out of this okay. Remember, you're not to leave June's. You're scheduled to fake the heist tomorrow evening. Focus on those paintings. I'll be in touch."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

El twisted the terrycloth belt of her bathrobe as she sat next to Peter while he talked with Neal. When Travis called, she'd just finished her shower. Peter was watching a late-night comedy show in bed.

"Is Neal holding it together?" she asked when he rang off.

"Barely," Peter said, squeezing her shoulder. "Someone from his past threatening the woman he loves is the nightmare he dreaded would happen."

"Sara probably shared the same concerns. Neal could have been targeted by some enemy she made. In any case, he couldn't have just kept her locked up."

"Wilkes has Neal over a barrel. Travis is alerting the team. There's damned little to go on though."

She nodded absently. "And you can't appear to be aware you know about it. Wilkes could be monitoring us too."

"You're right. Just like he's been keeping tabs on Neal." His lips tightened into a thin line. "Somehow he found out about Sara. Did Alex tell him?"

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

"Did you?" Neal demanded. There was too much anger in his tone, but he was beyond caring. He glared into the burner phone, picturing Alex's face.

"No, I didn't tell Wilkes about your girlfriend. And I didn't mention that you were helping me either." Alex sounded equally upset. "How could you accuse me of that? Raquel knew you were dating Ellis. Wilkes could have found out too. You told me he was itching for payback. He may have had you followed for months."

Did he believe her? Neal's eyes drifted to the chessboard on the cocktail table. Wilkes could be using both Alex and Sara to get to him. He might have ordered Alex to steal a painting from a museum in New York, expecting that she would enlist Neal's help.

"I'm sorry about Sara," Alex said. Her voice was a shock of cold water on his face. He'd forgotten she was still on the line. "And even sorrier Wilkes has his hooks into you too. You're in love with her, aren't you?"

What was the point of deflecting? Was he always going to have to lie about Sara?

"Raquel warned me that might be the case," Alex continued, not waiting for him to answer. "You're really hopeless, you know. First Kate, now Sara. Why do you always fall for women who are no good for you?"

He swallowed. "Don't get carried away. Sara and I have only dated a few times, but yes I like her. I'd be concerned about anyone who'd been kidnapped by Wilkes."

"Don't worry, we'll fix it," she said confidently. "Sara will never find out about your connection to Wilkes—or me. I can plant a bug when I give Wilkes the painting."

"I'm going with you to the meeting. At this point, there's no need to pretend I'm not involved."

"The appointment's for three o'clock on Monday morning," she warned.

"I'll have the painting by then. Tell him that I insist on proof that Sara's alive before I'll turn over the painting."

Wilkes had said he'd bring along an expert to verify the painting wasn't a forgery. Neal longed to know who he intended to use. The authentication would be done in the van while they waited. If it passed, Alex would get her jewels. Neal didn't think Wilkes would renege on the bargain. He wanted to keep both Neal and Alex in his stable for future jobs.

The door into the hallway opened silently while Neal was talking with Alex. Mozzie stepped inside and stood next to Neal, not saying a word, until he ended the call.

"How did you know to come?" Neal asked.

Mozzie sat down beside him. "El contacted me. We'll get Sara back, and make sure Wilkes never threatens anyone again."

"And how do you propose to accomplish that?" Neal asked, frustration leaking into his voice. Confident words, but that's all they were. Mozzie was trying to help but realistically what could he do?

"You're not the only one who's been mistreated by Wilkes. No one in this town likes him. While you work on your assignment"—Mozzie nodded pointedly to the two easels—"I'll get the word out. This is not that different from when you were abducted by the Mansfelds. Sara came through for you, and now you need to do the same for her."

Neal shook his head. "There's a huge difference. Rolf and Klaus wanted me alive. Wilkes would kill Sara in a heartbeat."

"Stress is clouding your logic," Mozzie countered. "Allow me to explain. With Sara, Wilkes thinks he has the perfect leverage to control you. She's become his golden egg and he won't harm her."

Neal hoped that was true, but Wilkes likely believed Neal would react the same way if anyone he cared about was threatened. Until Wilkes was behind bars, no one was safe. "How did he find out about us? We've kept our relationship a secret up to just recently, and Sara's barely been in town."

"But she was here in late January, and we already knew some of Raquel's associates spotted you and Sara in Florence over Christmas. When you were in Italy, you assumed you might be tracked by Mafia henchmen. Wilkes operates overseas as well as in the States. If he'd wanted to discover a vulnerability, it wouldn't have been very difficult."

Mozzie was right. Neal and Sara had even discussed how best to make use of her in the Steinar Wolff con because they realized they couldn't keep their relationship a secret.

"Sara's used to dangerous situations," Mozzie continued. "You'll both come out of this in better shape than before." 

Neal let Mozzie's reassuring words wash over him but they didn't penetrate. He had less than twenty-four hours to finish the forgeries and stage the heist. He went through the final steps on the paintings with his brain paused on the freeze-frame of Sara at the precise moment the bullet landed next to her.

On Sunday, June and Mozzie dropped in periodically to check on him. Neal mouthed platitudes about being okay. He was grateful their visits were brief so he didn't have to maintain the pretense for long. Henry had offered Win-Win's assistance but there was little they could do to supplement the Bureau's efforts. Peter kept in touch with regular updates even though there was no news to report. Neal should feel comforted that the team was working so hard to find Sara, but with nothing to go on, he didn't have much hope for a breakthrough.

Up to now, Wilkes's M.O. had been to call Alex when he wanted to meet her. He allocated very little time for her to arrive at the designated spot. That meant the best chance to plant a tracking device in the van was when they delivered the painting.

The Frick closed on Sundays at five. Alex believed that Neal would hide in a storeroom in the afternoon then steal the painting after the cleaning staff had finished their work. The canvas was small—a sixteen-by-eighteen-inch abused masterpiece—and easy to conceal. Neal had no difficulty in convincing Alex that he used his newfound expertise in security software to hack into the museum's grid. Convincing her that she couldn't accompany him on the heist was easy. She believed she was being monitored, and Neal could make the case that taking her along would be an unnecessary extra layer of risk.

When he arrived at the Frick on Sunday afternoon, he headed for the storeroom just as he'd outlined to Alex. He couldn't risk the chance she'd told Wilkes and his spies were monitoring Neal's movements. The museum, of course, knew about the operation. Security personnel left him alone to his thoughts during the long hours. Sara was also waiting. Was she in darkness, too? Was she agonizing like him over what she could have done differently to have prevented this from occurring?

Neal jumped when his phone buzzed. When he saw it was Peter's number, he held his breath. Peter was going to tell him that Sara had managed to free herself. Their nightmare was over.

"You have news?" he didn't need to whisper, but it would help conceal his nervousness.

"We updated the plan," Peter corrected. "I decided the risk of discovery is too high if you try to leave a bug. Instead, Travis's team will plant tracking devices to the chassis while you're meeting with Wilkes inside."

Neal could have argued the point but his heart was elsewhere. "Anything about Sara?"

"One of Mozzie's contacts confirmed that Hendricks was spotted on a block in East Harlem. When Alex gets the call from Wilkes, we're going to stage a blackout on a twenty-block radius around where Hendricks was seen. It will last for thirty minutes. We're counting on Sara to use the power outage to free herself. If you were in her situation, what would you do?"

"I would have already loosened any restraints they'd used on me. Once the lights went out, I'd conceal myself, making them think I'd fled the scene. At some point they'd leave to search for me. That's when I'd make my escape."

"Do you think Sara could pull off something similar?"

"Possibly. Depending on her condition . . . If the room's been secured with an electronic alarm, it won't be functioning. That will help."

"We'll have the area blanketed with plainclothes officers and agents. We hope to find her while the painting's being authenticated."

_Could, should, hope_ —so many conditionals. But it was a chance and Neal clung to that.

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When Neal arrived at Alex's hotel room, she opened the door immediately.

"You got it?" she demanded excitedly.

"Of course," he said calmly.

She scanned him, noting he'd come empty-handed. "What's your secret?"

He shrugged. "It's February in New York. I wouldn't go outside without an overcoat." He slipped it off. "This is one of Mozzie's custom tailoring jobs with a concealed pocket in the back."

Alex smiled appreciatively. "A neat trick. Does Mozzie take commissions for others?"

"I'm sure he would for you."

She retrieved her briefcase from the closet and placed it on the bed. "We'll give the feds quite a show. They'll think the jewelry's inside the briefcase. You're sure they don't suspect anything?"

"Positive." _They don't suspect. They already know._ "When the agents storm the van, I'll conceal the painting so they won't discover it. Once I fence it, I'll send you a cut." He handed her the canvas.

Alex frowned as she placed it in the briefcase. "You should let me fence it. I have better contacts than you."

"The painting stays with me," Neal insisted. "I shouldered the responsibility of stealing it. Don't you trust me?"

"You know I do."

Neal didn't challenge her statement. He was glad she didn't ask the same of him. "In any case, you need to stay around to be a witness against Wilkes. It will be much easier for me to keep it safe."

"All right, we'll do it your way." The fact she gave in so easily was telling.

Alex glanced at her watch. "It will probably be an hour before Wilkes calls." She nodded toward the bed. "I know of a way to ease the stress."

"Forget it," Neal said bluntly.

She shrugged. "Can't blame a girl for trying. You're really serious about Sara, aren't you?"

He hesitated for only a second. "Yeah, I am. She doesn't deserve to suffer from my mistakes." He dropped into a side chair, relieved that for once he could speak the truth.

Alex stood behind him and massaged the taut muscles in his neck. "You just can't help yourself, can you?" she murmured into his ear. "I can see exactly how it played out. Steinar ordered you to get close to her. How long did it take for you to become smitten? I hear she's gorgeous."

Neal didn't answer. He was fine with her imagining whatever fantasy made sense to her. And she did give an excellent neck massage.

"You said she knows about your past, and yet she still wants to date you." Alex snorted softly. "Are you sure she's not playing you?"

Neal jerked his neck away. "Yes, I'm sure," he said angrily.

"Hey, don't get mad at me. I like you, Caffrey. I don't want you to get hurt."

Her cell phone buzzed. She retrieved it from her Greek woven tote, and listened for a moment. Looking up, she said, "We're to meet Wilkes at 11th Avenue and West 54th Street."

Neal had already pulled out his phone. He texted Peter the location. The clock was now reset. The blackout in East Harlem should happen within a few minutes. "Time to get you wired," he told Alex.

She smiled flirtatiously. "As long as I have to be subjected to it, let's make it more interesting." She stripped off her sweater to reveal a skimpy black lace bra. "Have your way with me," she added in a sultry voice.

Neal chuckled despite himself.

"That's better," she said smugly. "I knew I could loosen you up. Don't you need to place some of the bugs lower down?" Her hand reached for the zipper of her low-cut corduroy jeans.

"That won't be necessary."

"You're missing out. I thought you were better at multitasking."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

When they arrived at the location, Neal saw the same van Wilkes had used on Saturday night. That was a mistake. Neal bet the tech boys had already placed tracking devices on it. It was a frigid night with bitter temperatures in the teens. It would be easy to believe a cable had snapped, precipitating the blackout.

Had Sara already managed to secure her freedom? Was she injured? Peter had promised to send him a signal to his watch. Travis had customized it with a tiny LED on the dial face. A green light would indicate she was safe.

Besides Wilkes in the van, were the two henchmen who'd been with him yesterday as well as Pavel Statnik. Neal was familiar with Pavel. He'd carved himself out a niche making authentications for the black market. He had a discerning eye, but Neal was confident his canvas would pass muster.

"You got the painting?" Wilkes demanded.

Alex patted her briefcase. "Of course."

Neal grabbed the briefcase from her before Wilkes could snatch it away. "But before the exchange, I need proof your hostage is still alive."

Wilkes grimaced. "No can do, Caffrey. The power went out several minutes ago. But by the time the painting's been authenticated, I'm sure I'll be able to show you Ms. Ellis. In the meantime, I'll even let you inspect the jewelry." His lips twisted into what he no doubt thought was a congenial smile but which soured Neal's stomach even more. "After this probationary period, we'll all be on the same team. You treat me square, I'll do the same by you."

"No more kidnappings?" Neal asked, as if he were gullible enough to believe anything Wilkes said.

"It won't be necessary," Wilkes said with a shrug. "You're a smart man. I'm sure you won't provoke another incident." He flicked his fingers and one of the thugs brought out a leather case.

Neal, in turn, removed the painting and handed it to Pavel.

Alex took possession of the jewels, whipping out her jeweler's loupe. She scrutinized each one as if she believed it had been replaced by a fake.

Neal shed his overcoat while pressing a button on the side of his watch. The signal would alert Travis that the jewelry was present.

He'd never met Pavel, but the authenticator undoubtedly knew his reputation and would take extra care when he examined the painting. Neal's forgery expertise had skyrocketed in the past two years, but that was a closely guarded secret known only to White Collar and a few others. None of his forgeries had been exposed on the dark web, giving him an extra margin of comfort.

Wilkes talked about future jobs he was targeting for them as if he expected they'd be excited. He claimed he was feeling magnanimous and wouldn't force Neal to travel so that he could continue to work at the Bureau. Did he honestly have the gall to believe Neal would be intimidated by him? The old Neal would have shed his identity and bolted to another part of the world rather than join his crew. This new, improved version wasn't running.

When the green light appeared on his watch, Neal's legs turned weak. Sara was okay. He took a second to let it sink in, not letting his mask change by a fraction. Catching Alex's eye, he blinked his eyes twice. It was an old signal they'd used in the past—a signal to get ready.

A minute later, someone pounded on the van door.

"Can you see who's there?" Wilkes asked the driver.

"No police cars. Maybe a drunk who saw the lights?"

Wilkes jerked his head to his henchmen. "Get rid of them."

Before they could exit, voices yelled, "FBI! Open up!" and the back door was flung open, no doubt thanks to Travis's team. They had master keys for unlocking any model of vehicle. In the confusion of the first seconds, Neal saw Alex grab the jewelry while he stashed the painting in his overcoat. Wilkes wouldn't rat on them. He didn't want to be caught with any stolen merchandise.

Peter, Jones, and Diana were among the agents who swarmed inside. They made it look authentic, treating Alex and Neal the same way as the others. Diana took charge of the jewels, but the agents weren't supposed to know about the painting so left his coat alone. All Neal could think about was Sara.

"How is she?" he demanded of Peter as soon as he was able to.

"A little banged up, but she's okay. She told me to tell you that she's in much better shape than her captor, and the Way of the Orchid came through."

Neal sagged with relief. "Those martial arts classes came in handy."

Peter clasped his shoulder. "I'm going to encourage El to enroll in them as well. Sara was able to get outside the building. NYPD agents were on the street looking for her and picked her up. They took her to New York-Presbyterian Hospital to be checked out."

Jones approached them, a worried look on his face. "Have you seen Alex?"

"She was with NYPD agents last I saw her," Peter said. "Why? Something wrong?"

He scowled. "Yeah. She's disappeared."

Peter stared at him, outraged. "The jewels too?"

"No, we'd already secured them."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Neal had warned them Alex was slippery. Peter rubbed his chin as he slouched back in the uncomfortable plastic chair in the emergency waiting room. It was a small consolation that she'd been guarded by NYPD detectives at the time. He shook thoughts of Alex out of his head and focused on Neal.

Leaving Jones in charge of the mop-up, Peter had driven Neal to the hospital. By the time they arrived, Sara was being x-rayed, and they were forced to cool their heels in the waiting room. It was a sign of Neal's emotional state that he glugged down the vending machine coffee with nary a complaint. By all accounts, including Sara's, her injuries were minor. A possible sprained wrist and rib injuries were being checked out, but until Neal got to see her, he didn't believe the reassuring words.

Coupled to his concern was undoubtedly a truckload of remorse that it was somehow his fault. There was nothing Peter could do for Sara, but Neal's issue was something Peter could help with. "You're not to blame," he repeated, hoping this time it would finally sink in. "You didn't kidnap her. Wilkes is the only person responsible."

Neal nodded absently, his elbows propped up on the arms of the chair, his hands clenched in front of his chin. "Remember when I asked you to talk me down when I freaked out about keeping Sara safe? This is one of those times."

"Does it help to know that I seriously considered locking you up in prison to keep you out of harm's way?"

Neal looked at him with dismay. "You didn't!"

"I did. It was after you'd been working for only a couple of weeks at the Bureau and you let yourself be abducted."

Neal winced. "Now I remember."

"When I calmed down, I realized extreme measures would be ineffective. So let my example help banish all the nonsensical ideas that are probably going through your head right now."

He gave a dry chuckle. "I hadn't considered locking myself up, but that might solve both Sara and your problems."

Peter gave him a light punch in the arm. "Don't tempt me!" He continued in a quieter voice. "Wilkes was a ticking time bomb. You'd warned us about him during your initial confession. There's no one else in your past like him, is there?"

He shook his head. "The only one who comes close is Keller and he's behind bars."

"So my advice is to relax. Sara's job has probably resulted in her having enemies too. Consider how you'd want her to handle it if the situation were reversed."

He nodded. "Good advice. I'll work on it." He sat up straighter and took a breath. "And on the positive side, Sara's kidnapping, in addition to the stolen jewels, will keep Wilkes in prison for a long time to come."

"There's no way he can squirm out this time," Peter agreed. "As it turns out, we won't need Alex's testimony."

"She helped herself to my forgery," Neal said. "When you arrived on the scene, I'd placed it in a hidden pocket of my overcoat and left it lying on the table. By the time I was able to check, this is what I found." He pulled out a creased yellow square of paper. "It had been folded into a tulip. The message says: _Sorry, Neal. This is compensation for the jewels. Later_."

"She must have written the note and prepared the origami in advance. Painting the second forgery was a smart move."

"Mozzie predicted Alex would attempt to escape with the painting."

Peter smiled. "He keeps finding ways to make me very happy he's on our side. Wilkes doesn't know Alex stole the painting he saw. We'll be able to use your second forgery as leverage and hopefully get him to reveal who his buyer is."

"An alias or a dark web handle may be the best we could achieve," Neal warned.

"That's a good start," Peter reminded him. "That handle will be tied to something else. If Rolf was the one who commissioned the theft, the net will close a little tighter around him. You'd mentioned you were adding a special touch to the painting for Alex. What was it?"

"I drew a large origami cheetah on the woman's gown in invisible ink. It was covered with a thin veneer to escape detection by the authenticator, but in twenty-four hours the cheetah will blaze forth in luminescent splendor. There's also a microchip embedded in the canvas so it can be tracked."

Peter smiled at him. "Alex won't be happy."

"No, she won't. In a way, I'm glad she took it. I didn't feel right about tricking a friend even though I tried to ease my conscience by saying this was for her own good. What helped was the realization that Alex would probably try to take advantage of me, and I was simply beating her at her own game."

"I know it still doesn't sit well. For what it's worth, you gave her much more of a chance than she did you. This is one of the times when it's just not possible to fix everything."

Neal nodded. "But there is something I can fix. Go home, Peter. You've been up all night. Your sweetheart's waiting for you. Give her an early Valentine. Sara will be fine. I'll be fine."

**WCWCWCWCWCWCWC**

Sara was released from the hospital on Monday afternoon after being diagnosed with a sprained wrist and a cracked rib. Neal had been in her situation enough times to know what the recovery was like—painful and annoying but not debilitating. He also remembered full well how much he disliked being fussed over. Sara appeared to be the same way. So they both made light of the harrowing ordeal.

They'd gone directly to his loft from the hospital. She fell asleep in his arms and eventually he drifted off as well.

The next day, Peter let him work from home so he could stay with her. So far, Wilkes was refusing to disclose the name of the buyer, but Neal was putting everything connected with the crook on the back burner. It was Valentine's Day. They had shrimp scampi with June, courtesy of Chef Emil. Neal had already stocked up on Mascleta Fireworks chocolates, and they all drank pomegranate sparkling water since Sara's anti-inflammatory drugs couldn't be mixed with alcohol.

Maggie Feng surprised them with a magnificent living orchid arrangement for the dining room table. Sara gave her a detailed description of how some of Maggie's martial arts techniques had come to her aid. A demonstration would have to wait for later but Maggie already had plans to design a class around Sara's escape.

After dinner, he and Sara returned upstairs where Neal slipped once more into artist mode.

She held out her left arm and gazed at the design admiringly. A giraffe now graced her wrapped forearm. "I wish you could come to London when it needs to be rewrapped," she said.

"So do I." Neal waved his felt-tip marker enticingly. "Would you like me to embellish the tape around your ribs?"

She grinned. "Yes, please."

"For that, you'll need to disrobe and stretch out on the bed."

She batted her eyelashes at him. "I thought you'd never ask." She slipped off her silk kimono and draped herself on the bed next to the vase of scarlet roses Neal had supplied. "What design does my artist lover recommend?"

"I'm yours to command."

"Then I'd like a cheetah. Better yet, a cheetah chasing a mockingbird." She glanced down. "I'm glad the bandages are low enough I'll be able to see it."

"I'll try my best, but I warn you it won't be my best work. I'll be too distracted."

"I wish I'd gotten you something for Valentine's Day," Sara lamented. "I'd planned to go shopping on Saturday."

"You already gave me your gift. Having you here with me is all I want."

"I do have another request to make though," she said.

"What's that?"

"I'd like you to paint _Girl Interrupted at Her Music_ one last time. Not as it looks like now but as you imagine Vermeer would have initially painted it. It will be a remembrance of our first Valentine's Day together."

His heart leaped at the thought. "And the promise of many more to come."

* * *

_Notes: Did Rolf commission Wilkes to steal the painting? As is typical for FBI cases, the answer won't be known for a while. But for Neal, the pressure is off. Wilkes is behind bars, and Sara is safe. When a chance to attend Mardi Gras falls into his lap, how can he resist? I'll begin posting Voodoo Remoulade next week, on July 22. With a title like that, you may guess that the Winchesters are involved, and you'd be right. I wrote about the background to the story for our blog: "[Destination: Voodoo Remoulade](https://pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com/2020/07/destination-voodoo-remoulade.html)."_

_Many thanks to Penna Nomen for beta help and for providing me with so many inspiring moments in her Caffrey Conversation stories. Her story By the Book contains the scene where Peter considers protecting Neal by locking him up in prison. Neal asked Peter to help keep him from being overly protective in my story, A Witch in Venice._

_Thanks for reading and reviewing!_

_Chapter Visuals and Music: The Progress of Love board on the Caffrey Conversation Pinterest website:[pinterest.com/caffreycon](http://www.pinterest.com/caffreycon)_   
_Blog: Penna Nomen & Silbrith Conversation: [pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com](http://www.pennasilbrithconversation.blogspot.com)_   
_Twitter:[@silbrith](https://twitter.com/silbrith)_


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